


Night Two

by I_Missy_Moo



Series: The Mornings After [2]
Category: Poldark (TV 2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 16:53:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8999083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Missy_Moo/pseuds/I_Missy_Moo
Summary: A comparison if you will... Ross waking up in bed on two separate occasions. Two separate locations. Two separate ladies. Both times unplanned.





	

Daylight was approaching, yet he fought the moment of awakening. A sense of unease circled him. Similar to that feeling of a nightmare that one must relive upon waking in the morning. Yes, he was most definitely unsettled. A sickeningly sweet rose scent seemed so unfamiliar to him. He was used to lavender. He gradually opened his eyes…surfacing slowly, a feeling of reluctance to face the morning already overwhelming him. 

He blinked. He didn’t see the red curls he was used to waking up to each morning. The curls that often caught the sun’s early morning rays and looked like fire…the curls that he had seen every morning on waking for the past seven years. He frowned…these curls were dark.

He was fully awake now. It was Elizabeth beside him. Facing him. She looked beautiful as she slept. A porcelain doll. Fragile….ahhh yes he remembered… 

He quickly slid from the bed and quietly began to dress. There was a sense of urgency about his actions. He felt the need to flee. He didn’t want to look back at her in the bed… as beautiful as she was. He had loved her for what seemed like half of his life. He had spent years craving her touch: her kiss, her body. Yet now…he felt a sense of shame standing in her room and he turned his back on her. He felt sick. He felt lost. He felt… disloyal. 

As the sun began to rise, he realised how awkward it was going to be to face her in the morning light. If he could just escape before her waking, he could postpone the conversation…giving himself some time and space to think. He felt a sense of fear; a foreboding sense of unease that he had not felt since the war. He needed to get back to Nampara as soon as possible. He needed to talk to Demelza. He needed to explain. He needed to make her understand. He needed his wife.

She began to stir. 

He sensed her stretch slowly and he felt her eyes on him and he awkwardly turned to glance at her.

‘I must go before the household wakes,’ his voice sounding vague even to himself. His fingers would not seem to work quickly enough for his liking as he buttoned his vest. He felt the need for haste…he must rush. He didn’t want the servants here at Tremwith or Jud and Prudie at Nampara to know he had spent the night. He wanted to slink off into the early dawn. Lost in his thoughts he had almost forgotten the woman lying in bed, waiting for his instruction. Perversely he was thinking of another. If he was lucky he could sneak out of Tremwith and home to Nampara before she awoke. 

‘What shall we….’ She asked tentatively breaking his reverie. 

‘I must think,’ he stated cutting her off abruptly. He did not want to talk now. He did not have the answers or the responses that she wanted, that she craved. Ironically he had dreamt of this moment for years, and yet now that it was here he didn’t want it. He didn’t want to talk about their night of….sex. That’s all it had been. Not love. Just the physical act of sex!

He felt unsettled…and in a moment of clarity he realised that there was only ever one woman in his life that calmed him….and it was not Elizabeth. In fact, she had always had the opposite effect on him. 

‘When will you…’ She tried again.

‘Soon!’ He replied glancing over his shoulder as he made his way quickly to the door. He could not seem to escape fast enough.

He fumbled the doorknob trying to juggle his coat at the same time. He felt an immediate sense of panic….as if he had lost something valuable but was unsure of what it was. He didn’t understand the feeling. The strong scent of rose was cloying his senses and addling his thinking. His sense of panic rising and the urge to see his wife was overwhelming. 

He didn’t understand the sense of loss that he felt.

What in the hell was he going to do now he thought…


End file.
